The next morning, soft rays of sunlight slipped through the white curtains of a luxurious villa nestled in Th?o ?i?n. On the second floor, inside the master bedroom where My was under special care, the atmosphere was strangely calm. After a deep sleep aided by the doctor’s sedative, My slowly opened her eyes, her lashes fluttering as if she had just emerged from a long, dream-drenched slumber.

  Beside her bed, Tu?n—her fiancé—sat with his head resting on the mattress, waiting in silence. With him were two close friends, both well-known businessmen—Ti?n and Deep—who had arrived early to help care for her.

  Tu?n looked up the moment he noticed her eyes stirring. He grabbed her hand tightly, his voice filled with relief:

  “How are you feeling? Everyone’s been so worried about you.”

  My shifted slightly. Her voice was still heavy with sleep, but there was a spark of life in her eyes:

  “Last night… I slept so well. Strange… I didn’t have any nightmares.”

  At that, Ti?n and Deep let out quiet laughs, their tension lifting in the room that had been steeped in heaviness for nearly two days.

  “That’s great news! If we just stick to the doctor’s treatment plan, everything should get better in no time.” Ti?n said, patting Tu?n on the back.

  “Yeah, we’ve even started planning the engagement party setup for you two.” Deep added, winking playfully.

  Nearby, Mr. Quy and Mrs. Lan—My’s parents—stood silently by the window, eyes brimming with tears as they saw their daughter awake and lucid. Mrs. Lan couldn’t hold back her emotions. She rushed forward, grasped her daughter’s hand, and whispered tearfully:

  “My dear child… you’re awake… thank heavens. We were all so worried about you…”

  Mr. Quy nodded repeatedly, his voice deep but filled with relief:

  “The doctor was right… If it’s psychological, then staying mentally strong is key. Thankfully, our daughter has Tu?n and these two friends to give her strength.”

  The room now felt warmer than ever, as if a calm breeze had settled after a violent storm. But… none of them knew that the true whirlwind had only just begun to stir—beneath the thin veneer of peace.

  In stark contrast to the relieved atmosphere at My’s villa in Th?o ?i?n, anxiety still hung thick in the air at D?ng’s grand estate. The princess-themed room, dressed in soft pastel pinks, no longer matched the spirit of its owner. Anh ?ào, still engulfed in sorrow and fatigue, sat curled in a corner. She had barely slept through the night; every time she drifted off, she’d jolt awake—haunted by visions of her own face melting, dripping away to reveal what lay beneath.

  Wrapped in a cream velvet blanket pulled up to her shoulders, her once-radiant beauty had faded into a pale, hollow version of herself. Her eyes were dull, vacant—far from the glowing bride she had been just two days prior.

  The door opened gently. M? Linh stepped in, her voice soft and comforting:

  “?ào, sweetheart, come eat something. Your husband made bird’s nest soup just for you.”

  She sat down beside her daughter, gently resting a hand on her shoulder and coaxing her up. Anh ?ào didn’t resist—her expression empty, but she let her mother guide her out of the room.

  In the kitchen, Anh Tú—her poised young husband—was drying his hands after finishing the still-steaming soup in a pristine white porcelain tureen. When he saw his wife being led out, he walked over and helped her into a chair. His voice was calm and affectionate:

  “The soup’s just ready. Eat it while it’s hot. Afterward, I’ll take you out for a walk—fresh air might help clear your mind.”

  Anh ?ào gave a slight nod. She slowly brought a spoonful of soup to her lips. Each delicate mouthful warmed her from within, the savory aroma of the bird’s nest soup gradually easing her unease. The soothing scent in the air brought a small measure of comfort to C?u D?ng and M? Linh as well.

  M? Linh smiled gently, sitting beside her daughter. She spoke to her husband while watching their child:

  “Tú really is an ideal husband—caring, understanding. He’s been in the kitchen since morning and stayed up all night just to take care of ?ào.”

  C?u D?ng nodded, his eyes never leaving his daughter, concern still etched deep on his face:

  “I just hope she gets better soon. I don’t know how much more of this I can take.”

  At that moment, Anh Tú picked up a glossy red apple from the fruit tray—imported from Europe, a gift from M? Linh. He took a bite, chewed slowly, and nodded in approval:

  “This apple’s really sweet, Mom.”

  M? Linh smiled, her tone tender:

  “I ordered it from a friend—she imports top-quality fruit. There’s a special basket set aside as a gift for your parents. It’s over there on the other table. These are crisp and sweet—the best.”

  Anh Tú, moved by their kindness, looked toward his in-laws and bowed slightly:

  “Thank you, Mom and Dad, for always being so thoughtful toward our family. I’m truly grateful. Please allow me to pass along my parents’ gratitude as well.”

  Just then, C?u D?ng’s phone rang. It was Anh Tú’s father.

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  “Hello, this is D?ng,” he answered.

  “Hi D?ng,” came the voice on the other end. “I heard from Tú that my daughter-in-law’s been stressed and unwell. Let her stay at your place for now. My wife and I will visit this afternoon.”

  C?u D?ng responded with polite formality:

  “Thank you both. ?ào’s just been overwhelmed—bad dreams from stress. She’s doing better now. My wife’s prepared a basket of imported fruit as a gift for you. We’ll see you later today.”

  After hanging up, he turned to their housemaid, Dì T?:

  “This afternoon, prepare a proper meal for our guests. I want everything to be just right.”

  Dì T? nodded respectfully:

  “Yes, sir. I’ll take care of everything.”

  The warm family scene suggested that Anh ?ào’s nightmare might be coming to an end… but could this warmth truly withstand the shadowy tide silently creeping beneath this fragile peace?

  The warm atmosphere brought on by the lovingly prepared bird’s nest soup was suddenly torn apart by a piercing scream.

  Anh ?ào—after only a few spoonfuls—suddenly looked up at her husband. Her wide eyes locked onto him with sheer horror. In front of her, Anh Tú was casually biting into a bright red apple... but what she saw was something else entirely.

  “Tú! Y-You’re eating… a heart… it’s still beating!”

  Her voice cracked, trembling and broken with panic. Everyone in the room froze. Anh Tú stood motionless, the apple still halfway to his mouth, utterly baffled.

  “What… are you talking about? It’s just an apple…” he said carefully.

  “No! No, it’s not! I saw it—clearly! A real heart… beating! You’re eating… a living heart!!” Anh ?ào screamed, her voice rising to a terrified pitch.

  The air turned heavy. Her words hung in the room like a curse. C?u D?ng and M? Linh exchanged horrified glances. His voice came out dry and shaky:

  “Linh… I think… we need to call a psychiatrist. Our daughter… she’s hallucinating. It’s getting serious.”

  M? Linh sprang up and rushed to her daughter’s side, gently patting her cheeks as if trying to snap her out of it:

  “Sweetheart, wake up! What are you saying, ?ào? Oh God… my daughter… she’s having hallucinations again… and worse this time…”

  Anh Tú held up the bitten apple toward her, trying to keep calm:

  “Look closely. Just look, ?ào. It’s an apple. Just a normal apple. See for yourself.”

  Anh ?ào rubbed her eyes over and over, her breathing rapid and erratic. She looked again—and this time, yes—it was a perfectly normal, ripe, red apple. No blood. No beating. Just fruit.

  She backed away in horror, mouth open, tears spilling freely down her cheeks.

  “No… no way… I saw it… you were eating a real heart… how can it just be an apple now…?”

  The hallucination had been so vivid, so disturbingly real, that no one in the room could dismiss it. C?u D?ng’s hands trembled as he pulled out his phone, quickly dialing a familiar number. His voice was urgent, filled with desperation:

  “Quy! It’s D?ng. Please help me. Call that psychiatrist of yours—have him come over right now. My daughter… she’s having another episode. It’s getting worse. Much worse.”

  On the other end, Quy was equally stunned. The tension across both households was growing unbearable.

  The dark tide of shared hallucinations was spreading—fast, relentless, and terrifyingly real.

  The warm and hopeful atmosphere at the Th?o ?i?n villa was quickly extinguished by an urgent phone call from C?u D?ng. As Mr. Quy ended the call, his face darkened, and a storm of worry settled in his eyes.

  “Bác Quy, is everything alright? Did something happen at Mr. D?ng’s place? Why did he call for a psychiatrist?” Tu?n asked with a furrowed brow, a bad feeling creeping into his chest.

  Mr. Quy let out a heavy sigh, his expression weighed down by dread.

  “Last night, right after D?ng left here, he got home and learned that his eldest daughter—Anh ?ào—had also fallen ill… exactly like My. She became hysterical, screaming that her face was melting like candle wax.”

  His words struck like thunder on a clear day. Tu?n, Ti?n, and Deep all froze in disbelief.

  “You’re serious? My God, how could this happen to both of them?” Deep murmured.

  “Both girls… part of the same close-knit friend group, met at the wedding… and now both are suffering the same breakdown?” Ti?n added, frowning.

  On the bed, My leaned back against her pillow. When she heard Anh ?ào’s name, her expression went blank. She began trembling, her lips pale, voice faint:

  “Anh ?ào… she’s going through this too?”

  Tu?n immediately grasped her hand, his eyes filled with concern and quiet sorrow. He gently tried to reassure her:

  “Don’t worry too much. Maybe it’s just stress—like you had before. You’ll both be okay with some rest.”

  My slowly shook her head. Her gaze drifted into the distance. A deep, rusted fear stirred within her—something dark was reaching out, touching both her and Anh ?ào from afar.

  “No… I’m scared. This feeling… it’s familiar. Like something’s out there. And it’s not an illness…”

  From across the room, the antique pendulum clock suddenly let out a sharp “click”—as if someone had touched it. The second hand froze momentarily. Just a second… but enough for every eye in the room to snap toward it.

  Silence fell.

  A vague, creeping fear slithered into the room. Was it an eerie coincidence—or was a curse quietly taking form?

  The gentle morning unfolded with rays of sunlight piercing through leafy branches, casting a warm golden glow over the humble alleyway. Birds chirped somewhere in the distance, singing as if to welcome a peaceful new day.

  Inside her small room, Trang woke from a deep sleep. She freshened up, brushed her hair neatly, and slipped on her familiar khaki jacket before stepping out of the boarding house. At the end of the alley, she bought two boxes of X?i M?n and two cups of warm soy milk. The warm scent rising from the food brought a soft smile to her calm face.

  As she returned to the front gate, she spotted old ?ng Nhan—her elderly neighbor, over seventy, who made a living collecting recyclables—tending to a clay stove, preparing to boil water for instant noodles. Trang called out cheerfully:

  “?ng Nhan! I brought you some X?i M?n and hot soy milk! No need for noodles today.”

  ?ng Nhan turned, his face lighting up with a gentle smile like morning sunlight:

  “Thank you, dear. I was just going to make some noodles to save a little money.”

  Trang pulled up a chair across from him, setting the X?i M?n on the stone table in the courtyard. She poured the soy milk into a ceramic cup and spoke with sincere warmth:

  “You should eat well and take care of your health. What’s money good for if it costs your strength?”

  ?ng Nhan nodded, taking a spoonful of the sticky rice. As he ate, his voice dropped slightly—gentle and full of emotion:

  “If I wanted to adopt you as my daughter… would you accept? In this world, kind souls like you are rare. It’s been five years, you and I leaning on each other in this alley. I care for you like my own child.”

  Trang froze. Her hands trembled slightly around the cup of soy milk. In her eyes—eyes that had long carried the loneliness of an orphan—something sacred flickered to life. Her tears didn’t fall, but her eyes reddened, heavy with the weight of quiet warmth.

  “You… you really want to call me your daughter?”

  ?ng Nhan nodded, his gaze full of paternal affection—as if she truly were the child of a father the world had long denied her.

  “From my heart. I’ve seen you that way for a long time.”

  Trang choked back a sob, her voice catching in her throat:

  “Then… I accept. From now on, I’m your daughter.”

  ?ng Nhan looked at her warmly and said:

  “Then from now on, you shall call me… Father Emperor.”

  Trang blinked in surprise:

  “Father Emperor? That sounds like something out of a martial arts drama.”

  ?ng Nhan chuckled and nodded:

  “Well, just think of it that way.”

  They continued sharing their X?i M?n—rich with layers of flavor from pork floss, Chinese sausage, steamed pork loaf, and scallion oil—alongside warm soy milk that gently soothed the morning chill.

  In a world still brimming with chaos and lurking shadows, this simple moment—in a modest boarding house courtyard—glimmered with the light of newfound family. A small miracle of warmth in the midst of a darkening tale.